


The Count of Vesuvia, Forced To His Knees

by vesuviannights



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Brattiness, Dominant Valerius, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Punishment, Submissive Lucio, cocksucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 10:55:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20007160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesuviannights/pseuds/vesuviannights
Summary: Valerius shows Lucio exactly what happens when he forgets exactly who is in charge.





	The Count of Vesuvia, Forced To His Knees

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the smutty drabble game on my Tumblr (@vesuviannights). The prompt was "Did you really think I would let you come after the way you behaved tonight?" and "So who's in charge again, Babyboy?" for Lucio/Valerius.

“Did you really think I’m going to let you come after the way you’ve been behaving tonight?”

Valerius smirks down at Lucio. The Count of Vesuvia, the most powerful man in any given room in this forsaken city, reduced to quivering thighs and desperate groans. Forced to his knees, the place Lucio so hated and so loved, trying to demand what he wanted—but what Valerius would never give.

Lucio growls as Valerius reaches down to smack his hand away from his cock. The fingertips of Lucio’s golden claw dig a little harder into the backs of Valerius’ thighs. The Consul’s cock bobs in front of Lucio, damp from his efforts to please, strings of spit still lingering between its tip and his parted lips.

“It was my party!” Lucio hisses at him. “My guests, _my_ —”

“Your nothing. None of this is yours, not really. Especially not that cock. You only touch yourself when I say, and you only come when you deserve it, not when you’ve been parading around in front of your guests like a drunken, sloppy peacock and flirting shamelessly with them. Keep sucking.”

Lucio takes his cock once more, running the flat of his tongue up its underside. Valerius shivers above him, parting his robes a little more to push his hips forward. His hand smooths its way into Lucio’s hair, massaging his scalp before taking hold with a sharp tug.

“Deeper. Take me deeper.”

Grip still tight in Lucio’s hair, he thrusts his hips forward. He hears the familiar noise of Lucio gagging, but he doesn’t fight him; the only sign that he’s still a little disgruntled at the nights turn of events is the press of his claws into the back of Valerius’. It only serves to spur him on, his cock twitching as he keeps it lodged in Lucio’s throat, cutting off his air supply.

This, in turn, cuts off his ability to continue pouting and bemoaning. The only thing the Count hates more than poor dress sense and having to pour his own liquor is when Valerius wins out and he’s forced to his knees and unable to say a thing about it. It doesn’t happen often in public, but when Valerius has the chance to drag him into an empty room and put him in his place? Lucio would never admit to how much it gets him off.

When tears begin to appear at the corners of Lucio’s eyes, Valerius pushes him off. Lucio drops to his hands and knees, and Valerius takes hold of his own cock, stroking it once, twice, three times before he comes with a groan, his seed spurting over his own hand and the back of Lucio’s cloak.

After he wipes his hand on a nearby curtain and adjusts his robe to cover himself once more, Valerius collects his half-empty wine glass from the dresser and leans in, parted lips to Lucio’s ear as he gasps into the sheets.

“So who’s in charge again, Babyboy?”

“You are!” Lucio whispers. The petulant growl is faint, but still there. “You are, always you.”

Valerius gives a single, quiet laugh in his ear. “That’s what I thought.”


End file.
